Pride and grace never dwell in one place.

Another hot day in store. As usual the PON's are out early. The dawn sun just starting to fill the sky with its watery glow. A trip to the stream for a paddle and a drink. At this time of the morning our only companions woodpeckers, a family of nervous voles scurrying home and a herd of young deer. Bob tries his hand ( unsuccessfully ) at fishing while Sophie smells, and then chews, the wild flowers on the riverbank. Brother and sisters characters already like chalk and cheese. Their enthusiasm for a piece of illicit breakfast croissant, shared.

A twenty something Irish girl and her boyfriend wander through the village. The click-clack of their staffs on the asphalt alert the PON choir to their presence. The start of the pre-Easter pilgrimage season. The Irish couple stop to ask for directions. He an accountant, she a nurse. Not particularly religious but walking to Compostella in order to gain a sense of  that  unhurriedness that previous generations cherished and modern life spurns. She tells me with a chuckle that at school in Dublin she was taught that Saint Brigid used to hang out her coat to dry on a sunbeam. Surely the sweetest miracle accorded to any saint ?

While the PON duo dig, I finish a scholarly little book written by a professor at Chestnut Hill College. I'd never heard of Chestnut Hill College ( it's in Philadelphia ) but the students are very lucky to have a professor like this. At 200 pages it's not a long, nor a particularly easy book, but one infused from start to finish with optimism. The author believes that history shows that people and things get better. An uncynical gem.